


i felt the strangest emotion but for once, it wasn't hate

by kaiju



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, this is mostly porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:56:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9287474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiju/pseuds/kaiju
Summary: “This doesn’t mean anything,” Graves says as coolly as possible, voice teetering on the edge of denial. His mind panics and he tries to justify himself. “I was just lonely – just needed some physical contact. You caught me while I was vulnerable.”“Vulnerable?” Grindelwald asks incredulously. “My dear Director,youwere the one who seducedme.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [只一次，我感觉到的不是恨](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554406) by [annebaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annebaby/pseuds/annebaby)



> For the Fantastic Beasts Kinkmeme prompt:
> 
> Graves thought he'd let Grindelwald seduce him so that, when Grindelwald's guard was down, Graves could make a grab for his wand and escape. Grindelwald knew about the plan, but thought he might as well let Graves try (and fail) if it meant he'd get to fuck the president's right-hand man. Neither planned to enjoy it so much that they completely lost sight of their individual plans.
> 
> Bonus if, after Graves is rescued and Grindelwald escapes, they occasionally end up having sex when they go up against each other, and neither one is entirely happy about it, but neither one can really resist.
> 
> *
> 
> This is probably as romantic as this pairing can get.
> 
> Be prepared for my excessive use of disapparation.

When Graves wakes up, he thinks: Today is the day.

After who knows how many months, today will be the day he escapes.To _night,_ specifically. He’s spent his entire time in captivity devising a plan to take Grindelwald down and finally leave this godforsaken prison. And tonight he’ll finally do it.

—

Percival doesn’t exactly remember how he let it happen. All he knows is that he let his guard down while investigating a case in Queens. One involving the illegal harboring of foreign house elves, or something like that, he can’t seem to remember. Graves was just about to arrive on location when he was hit with _stupefy._ It was the perfect location for a kidnapping, really. Dark. Empty streets. Graves out on his first lone investigation. He was practically begging for it.

The next morning, he woke up in nothing but his trousers and his dress shirt, leaned up against a stone wall with his wand gone – nowhere in sight. He didn’t register the fact that his wrists were handcuffed and chained to the wall until the blood rushed down into his head and his arms started throbbing. The handcuffs enchanted, too, leaving Graves with no capacity for wandless magic at all.

Then Grindelwald appeared before him, that snaky pretentious bastard, and informed him of his plan to take over New York using an Obscurus hidden deep within a child he’s seen in his visions. To top it all off he transfigured himself into Graves right in front of him. The reason being: “Your position within MACUSA will prove to be extremely useful in my endeavor.”

He even speaks like a pompous asshole, Graves thought. 

Percival was furious. “MACUSA will not let an imposter like you take my place,” he said. But his passionate declaration fell on deaf ears as Grindelwald had already _disapparated._

It’s become a sort of ritual since then. 

Grindelwald periodically appears in front of Graves and informs him of how the plan is coming along. He’s met a boy named Credence, who apparently knows the whereabouts of this Obscurus. Grindelwald brags about how easily “the boy” is manipulated and this pisses Percival off. How can a man so disgustingly wicked exist? He argues with the dark wizard each and every time and on all sorts of topics. They disagree on everything from how they take their coffee to lawful wizard conduct. He has no idea how MACUSA has yet to realize the true identity of their current Director of Magical Security when they’re so incredibly different from each other. 

The dark wizard regularly taunts and insults him, teases him about the worthless job he’s so eager to protect. Graves never takes the slanders to heart. He shrugs them off as meaningless statements, simply said to rile him up, to get a reaction out of him.

But abuse is a finicky term when it comes to his situation. Despite the verbal harm, the dark wizard never really bothers with physical torture or mind games. He’s too much of an intellect for petty things such as that. Instead, he leaves Graves alone. Lets him rot in his own loneliness.

But that’s never been a problem for Graves.

People always chide him: ‘You’re married to your work,’ ‘You never come out with us, Mr. Graves,’ ‘When will there be a Mrs. Graves?’ Percival’s heard them all. He’s devoted his life to his career at MACUSA and he doesn’t plan on giving it up. His entire adult life he’s spent alone and he prefers it that way. Sitting in a cell alone wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t know that his captor was outside wreaking havoc on the city. And this is when he decides to use his free time to plan an escape.

Grindelwald is an odd character. Graves has learned that the man thrives on power, on dominance. He exudes confidence and praises himself when he speaks. Graves has also learned from his years in the Security sector that criminals tend to lean more narcissistic than the everyday wizard, and the same applies to Grindelwald. He suspects that aspect of Grindelwald extends into the bedroom, where Graves plans on executing his strategy.

It was only by chance that Graves learned that Grindelwald keeps his wand where he sleeps. The man unknowingly slipped it into conversation one day, which turned the gears in Graves’ head. If he were to somehow get into Grindelwald’s bedroom, he could steal his wand back.

His plan goes like this: He’ll seduce Grindelwald, have him lower his guard, then take it to the bedroom to continue their “rendezvous,” and then snatch his wand and escape. Seduction will require symptoms of Stockholm syndrome, which Graves has pondered and practiced for quite a while after analyzing Grindelwald’s speeches and mannerisms. The plan isn’t foolproof, it isn’t perfect, but Graves believes that it’s his only chance at a real escape. 

He decides that his dignity is a very small price to pay for freedom.

—

Gellert laughs when he finds out.

It’s a clouded vision that tells him what Graves will attempt to do in the bedroom. It’s surprising, that a man as tightly wound as the Director would even think to pursue a plan as ambitious and perverted as this.

He’s even encouraged him by offhandedly mentioning the fact that he keeps Graves’ wand in his bedroom while discussing the many wands he’s obtained from killing other wizards.

While Percival Graves is someone he respects, mainly for his power and position, he can’t help but despise the man for his opposing ideologies. The way he presents himself as a man of the law – the wrong law – incarcerating wizards who do nothing more than exercise their right of magic, infuriates him to no end. MACUSA is nothing more than a way for wizards to cower in front of their muggle counterparts and Graves is just another number in that equation.

But rather than shut him down, Grindelwald decides to humour both Graves and himself by going along with the plan. He might as well. He has to admit that the Director is quite easy on the eyes. So if he gets to fuck the President’s right-hand man, why not? And besides, Graves has no chance of going through with it, he won’t be able to get further than flirting. Grindelwald’s sure of it. 

—

“How nice of you to wait up for me, Mr. Graves,” Grindelwald echoes from within the spirals in the air. He appears before Graves with a pop, and in his own skin instead of Percival’s. “I presume you actually enjoy our nightly conversations now?”

“Wouldn’t miss them for the world,” Graves says, smoothly. He cracks a slight smile, trying to appear as genuine as he can.

Grindelwald raises an eyebrow. His initial doubt transforms into amusement when it becomes more apparent that Graves is trying very hard to court his favour. The Director’s posture is more relaxed and open.

“Has something changed? You don’t seem to resent me as…” Grindelwald pretends to search for a word, rolling his tongue in between his teeth and pouting. “… _Vehemently_ as before.”

Graves breathes in through his nose slowly. “I’ve spent months in here alone. I’m lonely. I’ve been lonely… for a while now. You being here – paying attention to me, talking to me. You’re the only reason why I haven’t tried to kill myself yet.” The loud thumping of his heart reaches his ears. If he’s going to do this, he’s going all the way.

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence before Grindelwald speaks. He purses his lips and looks at Graves curiously. “Is that so?”

“I know I’m the last person you would expect to sympathize with your cause, but what you told me about the oppression of wizard kind and the unnecessary amount of attention paid to the No-Majs really resonated in me,” Percival knits his brows together, as if in serious thought. He looks up at Grindelwald in earnest. “I really believe that what you’re doing is right for American wizards. For – for all wizards.”

Grindelwald squints in suspicion. The Director is more convincing than he thought. He mentally praises the man for his convincing performance.

Percival sweats. Grindelwald isn’t an easy man to fool, but he’s also a man easily blinded by his own charisma. Graves concentrates on keeping a loose posture, on speaking with a welcoming tone. He even lifts his head higher, trying to show a little bit of skin to communicate a sense of vulnerability and attraction for Grindelwald. And as he breathes he makes sure his Adam's apple is pronounced, hoping the perspiration helps accentuate his features.

The dark wizard chuckles. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my intellect.” Grindelwald walks towards him and Graves focuses on his every step. He swallows the lump forming in his throat, but it doesn’t seem to go away.

Lowering his eyes, Percival brings his voice down a notch and speaks as softly as he can without whispering. “It’s a shame your intellect is all I get to see.” He plasters a coy smile on his face. It’s almost embarrassing – the lengths he’s going to for this. He musters up the courage to continue. “Although I never agreed with your ideologies, I always thought you were an attractive man with a brain to match.”

Grindelwald wants to laugh. Despite the falsity of this entire plan, he can’t help but enjoy every single moment. MACUSA’s strongest, most strait-laced Auror flirting with the most dangerous dark wizard of the century. The extremity of it all excites him.

“My, my, Mr. Graves,” he drawls, deeply. “I had no idea you were a man of such tastes.” Grindelwald bends forward and trails a finger down Percival’s neck and then along his chest. Graves can’t help but shiver.

Licking his lips, Graves tilts his head back until it rests against the wall. He looks up at Grindelwald with heavy-lidded eyes and an inviting expression. He opens his mouth.

Grindelwald stares for a moment, at Percival’s flushed face. He glances at Graves’ chest, where his eyes follow the rhythm of his breathing. They trail along the expanse of his torso until they reach the top buttons of his shirt, which are undone – had they always been that way? – revealing smooth yet hardened skin. A part of him wants to bite it, latch onto it until it forms a bruise that marks his territory. The other part wants to give up this charade and torture Graves with the Cruciatus Curse for even attempting to seduce him.

But of course, the former wins.

In a rush, Grindelwald leans in and pulls Percival’s into a kiss. It’s messy and rushed and rough – so much so that it’s borderline violent. Graves surges forward and takes control, gnawing at the other man’s lower lip. He makes a show of trying to pull his arms forward. The chains crack against the wall, but gain no attention from Grindelwald as he switches his focus from Percival’s mouth to his neck. Percival pulls again. 

“This would be much easier if I wasn’t restrained,” Graves rasps, breathy.

Grindelwald merely grunts, mouth preoccupied. He lazily waves a hand and the chains are broken but the metal cuffs remain on Percival’s wrists. He frowns. That’ll have to be dealt with once he has his wand.

There’s a sudden rush of pain on his collarbone and he yelps. He looks down to see Grindelwald biting his skin and then licking the area around it. He shudders and involuntarily lets out a strangled noise and he’s shocked by his own pleasure. Percival twists his fingers into Grindelwald’s hair and pulls the man back up, tangling their tongues together. Grindelwald groans and firmly settles his hands on the back of Graves’ neck.

Percival trails a hand down Grindelwald’s front until it cups his growing erection. He kneads it lightly and allows Grindelwald to dominate the kiss, teeth clacking and lips starting to go numb. “I could take care of this for you,” he whispers once they part, face pressed against Grindelwald’s cheek as the other man nips at his jaw. “In your bed.”

The teasing tone of Graves’ throaty voice surges straight to his cock and Grindelwald scowls, heated. He didn’t expect the man to have such an affect on him. In his defiance, Grindelwald doesn’t respond, but listens to Graves anyways and _disapparates_ them to his bed.

It’s been ages since Percival has felt soft sheets against his skin and he almost forgets why he’s here until Grindelwald grabs both of his wrists and pushes him against the head of the bed. Before he can catch his breath, Grindelwald’s mouth is on his again, harder this time – rougher. He bites Graves’ lip, snips it between his teeth and Percival’s bleeding. It stings and Graves lets out a pained moan. Grindelwald takes responsibility for the injury by licking the blood off of Percival’s mouth.

“I want you in my mouth,” Graves pants. 

Without waiting for a response, he breaks out of Grindelwald’s hold and pushes the man so that he lies on the bed. Graves’ hands fumble with Grindelwald’s trousers and he has no idea why it’s taking him so long to undo the very same pair of pants he wears on a daily basis. He realizes that his eagerness is rushing him and he flushes a deep red. All of this is worth it – it’s for a chance at freedom, he reminds himself.

The pants are finally undone and Graves doesn’t hesitate for one second as he drops his head and swallows Grindelwald whole. He moans around his cock as his mouth stretches and squeezes. He feels his own erection taking shape, straining inside of his pants.

Grindelwald looks down and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen such a tantalizing sight. Percival’s lips are slick and pink. His brows stitch together in ardent concentration as his cheeks fill and then hollow, sucking intensely. Grindelwald exhales.

Graves bobs his head up and down before stopping to breathe. He licks at the precome that’s forming at the head but then Grindelwald roughly pushes him back against the headboard.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he growls, annoyed. Percival panics, heart racing, and blood rushes to his head but then Grindelwald continues. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

He stares at Grindelwald with wide eyes and then surprisingly, he starts to undo his trousers by himself. They’re taken off as quickly as they are forgotten and he breathes hard as Grindelwald separates his legs. Percival’s mind is clouded by dirty words, by ways to pleasure Grindelwald, by ways to pleasure himself, and all thoughts of his plan are left behind when Grindelwald skims his fingers along his thighs.

It’s crazy how much he wants this.

Two thick fingers slicked with spit are eased into Graves. He hisses, but endures it. Grindelwald sets a steady rhythm that’s both fast and not fast enough and Graves can’t help but curl his toes. 

“Beg for it,” Grindelwald orders. “ _Beg_ me to fuck you.”

“Fuck me,” Graves demands in return, a strong emphasis placed on the first word. He doesn’t dawdle, doesn’t skip around it like a burning fire. He stares at Grindelwald so intensely that it’s transformed into more of a glare. Both men take this exchange as a challenge to overcome the other.

And in an instant, Grindelwald’s hands are at his arse, grasping his skin tightly. Graves doesn’t have a chance to lament the loss of the fingers as Grindelwald pushes inside of him. He moans and wraps his legs around Grindelwald’s waist, clenching as he does so. He moves his hips in time with Grindelwald’s staggered thrusts.

They rock together like that for a while, Graves scratching Grindelwald’s back so hard that he can feel bits of skin in-between his fingernails and Grindelwald biting, suckling on Percival’s neck until his flesh turns numb. Their pace quickens when Grindelwald starts pounding into him. The bed staggers forward and backward, scratching the wooden floor.

Graves kicks at Grindelwald’s back with the heel of his foot, urging him to go faster, rougher. “Harder,” he seethes through gritted teeth. “Harder, you bastard.”

As much as Grindelwald hates being told what to do, he listens and unabashedly fucks Graves harder. Graves feels lightheaded and on fire when Grindelwald adjusts his angle and thrusts into a certain spot. His own cock suffocates between their bodies and he tries to focus on the way Grindelwald’s cock stretches him wide. With a few more sharp thrusts against that same spot, Graves comes, release smearing on both of their chests.

Grindelwald groans gutturally as he comes, voice low and deep in his throat. He savours the way Percival’s body clenches around him, swallowing him, as he rides his climax out. 

When he pulls out, he acts quickly to regain his composure, closing the clasps of his trousers and sweeping his hair back. Graves lifts himself on his elbows and avoids eye contact with Grindelwald when his brain finally catches up to his body. Come trickles down his thigh and he tries his best to ignore it.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Graves says as coolly as possible, voice teetering on the edge of denial. He pulls on the sleeves of his shirt and starts to button. The cuffs feel heavier around his wrists and he remembers why this happened in the first place. His mind panics and he tries to justify himself. “I was just lonely – just needed some physical contact. You caught me while I was vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable?” Grindelwald asks incredulously. “My dear Director, _you_ were the one who seduced _me._ ” 

Percival is at a loss for words. He stubbornly shuts his mouth instead.

Grindelwald stands and flicks his wrist, cleaning Graves and rearranging his bedspread. He’s even courteous enough to wait for Graves to pull on his trousers before _disapparating_ them back into the cell. 

“As much as I had fun, I’m certain that this isn’t something we’d both like to continue. Let’s make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Grindelwald grumbles, running a hand down his face. The chains reappear and Percival is back where he was before the night began.

—

“Mr. Graves,” Abernathy knocks on the door of his office. “I have those files you wanted.”

Percival puts down his coffee. “Come in, Abernathy.”

The files are placed on his desk and Abernathy makes some awkward small talk before leaving. Graves goes along with it, nodding and responding on cue. It all feels so ordinary, as if he were never held captive for several months. Nobody talks about it. At least not to him. They suspect that he was abused and tortured when he was found with purple and yellow bruises and recovering bite marks all along the sides of his neck. Graves assured them that no physical harm was done but it was hard to believe those words coming from a man looking as rough as he did.

After the “incident,” Grindelwald avoided Percival for a couple of days. And when he did show up he acted much nicer, maybe even civilized. The insults continued and the conversations didn’t stop but they argued less and Graves was no longer subject to the intense moments of solitariness. Their relationship felt similar to two people who had decided that pursuing a romantic relationship was no longer in their interests. More familiar – more bantering and less debating.

And then one day, Grindelwald wasn’t there. Instead it was Tina and several other Aurors. They ran to him, frantically, yelling and shouting and Percival felt this wave of relief wash over him. A type of freedom he’d never felt before.

We’ve got _him,_ Tina had said. But Percival didn’t believe her.

True enough, Grindelwald had escaped from MACUSA’s highest security holding cell, and easily too. They have no idea how it happened, but Graves knows how slippery that man can be and decides that he is the only wizard capable enough to capture Grindelwald for good. He only tells Tina, because she’s really the only Auror he can trust.

“Grindelwald needs to be stopped. If there’s any witch or wizard who’s going to take him down, it’s going to be me.” 

—

When Percival hears that an entire sidewalk had been uprooted in the middle of the day, he’s the first one there. It’s definitely dark forces and Graves is sure that Grindelwald is still in New York. He questions a No-Maj detective who seems to think there are otherworldly forces acting in the city. An interesting thought, Percival thinks, considering how No-Majs tend to evade thoughts of “superstition.” Their conversation starts off normal, controlled – regular detective work and policing. Then the man suddenly smiles and his face transforms into the shit-eating grin that Graves had the pleasure of getting to know during his time in captivity.

Grindelwald drags him to a nearby alley and then kisses him. Hard. They return to a primal state, hands grappling at each other like they both need it, and they rut against a stone wall still clothed. There’s biting, hair-pulling, and nail-digging and all Graves can think about is how charmingly dangerous Grindelwald looks in a beige trench coat.

This begins a series of uncontrollable sex whenever and wherever the two wizards meet.

Gnarlak’s bar is always a hot topic in the New York wizarding crime scene, so it’s no surprise when an Auror reports that a group of witches and wizards claiming to be Grindelwald’s followers have been spotted there. Graves has never _disapparated_ so quickly. He figures that if he questions the group enough, he’ll have some idea of where Grindelwald is hiding. What he doesn’t expect to see is the dark wizard there in the flesh.

He discreetly follows one of the witches into the back of the bar, a small corridor where the lavatories are located and runs straight into Grindelwald. They exchange the usual pleasantries and insults and then Percival is on his knees, grinding into the tiles of the restroom floor as he unceremoniously stuffs his mouth with Grindelwald’s cock. Grindelwald comes, quick and volatile, unable to contain himself at the sight of Percival’s wet reddened lips and heavy eyes.

In another instance, Grindelwald actually visits the Woolworth under the guise of a regular Auror who isn’t scheduled to be in that day. He follows the Director around, accepting orders and editing files. He even offers to personally deliver Graves a hot cup of coffee, just as a show of appreciation. Graves doesn’t think anything of it until the Auror steps inside his office and locks the door while commenting on the unnecessary luxuriousness of American wizarding institutions. Grindelwald bends him over his desk that day, fucking into him until he’s limp and unable to form coherent sentences. 

And Graves _loves_ every second of it.

—

The last time he saw Grindelwald was two weeks ago at an old No-Maj’s brownstone, which was being investigated for strange occurrences. Nothing but needy, violent kisses were shared that night and both men left equally frustrated. Tonight, Graves doesn’t expect his frustrations to be quelled as Picquery sends him on a case he’s sure is unrelated to Grindelwald.

MACUSA has been keeping track of illegally smuggled potions crossing the American border and Graves is being sent to investigate an underground facility in Buffalo. Picquery forces Graves to accept the company of three other Aurors, strong in both offense and defense. He makes no show of disagreement but once they arrive, Graves orders them to stay outside as back up units.

There are only two guards on duty and they’re easily suppressed by a couple of harmless spells. Graves wastes no time in getting inside. It’s basically a cellar, walls lined with stone and floor covered in unopened boxes. Graves opens one, and then another, and another. They’re empty. The whole place is empty, not one piece of contraband in sight.

Percival walks into the middle of the cellar, looking around, wondering where MACUSA’s intel had gone wrong. Suddenly, he hears the click-clacking of shoes and he turns around.

It’s Grindelwald who has pursued _him,_ this time.

“You set this up,” Graves says, accusingly.

“Well hello to you too, Director,” Grindelwald says, sarcastically twirling his hand and then bowing.

“If you’re here for what I think you are; you’re not getting it. I have three very competent Aurors outside, waiting for my command,” Graves says as he backs away from Grindelwald.

“I’m insulted. I have more self control than that,” Grindelwald frowns. “I’m here to offer you a position in my ranks. A good one. A position that you’re already familiar with. Won’t you join me? Become my right-hand man?”

Percival laughs. “What makes you think I’ll willingly join you?”

Civility is a tired concept around this wizard, Graves thinks. He points his weapon at Grindelwald and fires at him, blue sparks bouncing off his wand. Grindelwald easily reflects Percival’s attack.

“We have a connection, Percival. One that even you cannot deny,” Grindelwald snarls and shoots at Graves with a more powerful spell. Percival blocks it, but just barely.

Graves whips his arm and yells, _“Expulso!”_ A burst of blue light hits the wall that Grindelwald stands beside and explodes the stone. Small shards of rock surprise the dark wizard, scratching and impaling his face. In panic, Grindelwald presses a hand to his face and scowls when it comes back with drops of blood.

“Let’s not make this any more violent than it needs to be, Percival,” Grindelwald says, voice rising and shoulders rising.

“I’m not falling for that this time.” 

Just as Graves is about to shout out another spell, Grindelwald tackles him. Percival's back hits the wall and oxygen is knocked out of him. They wrestle with their hands on each other’s wrists, twisting until their wands point away from their faces. It feels like rope burn, scalding and pinching their skin. They behave inhumanely, almost animalistic, as they growl and grapple at each other. 

Graves suddenly realizes how close they are and then his senses are heightened. He starts to feel every shift, every motion. His face heats up at the friction between their crotches and he gasps.

Grindelwald believes he’s caught Graves off guard and makes a move for the Director’s wand, accidentally grinding down on Percival. Graves moans beneath him and Grindelwald shudders at that, mouth opening as he exhales. Both wizards eventually lose control of their movements and drop their wands.

They’re both out of breath, breathing so hard that it’s visible in the air around them. Percival’s the first to cave in. He roughly grabs each side of Grindelwald’s head and kisses him, heatedly. Their lips clash together, pulling at each other with their teeth. Grindelwald has his hands on Percival’s neck, gripping strong enough to leave bruises. When it’s more pain than he can handle, Graves grasps Grindelwald’s hair and pulls until they break away from each other. “Hurts, you bastard.”

“Always so rough,” Grindelwald chides lightly.

He presses bites disguised as kisses down Percival’s chest, unbuttoning his shirt as he travels downward. Graves keeps his hands entwined in Grindelwald’s hair and watches as the dark wizard undoes his trousers. Grindelwald engulfs him in his mouth, twirling his tongue over the head and then sucking, eliciting a deep moan from Percival. Still sucking, Grindelwald spreads Percival’s legs open wider, hand clutching at the flesh of his inner thighs as he rubs a thumb against Percival’s entrance.

Using the precome leaking from Percival’s cock, Grindelwald massages his hole and then pushes his thumb inside, continuing until all he can see is his knuckle. He fingers Graves like that while sucking him off and Graves bucks his hips, shoving himself into Grindelwald.

“Come on, fuck me already,” Graves barks.

“And here I thought your job required patience,” Grindelwald says, leaving Percival’s cock to respond. He adjusts himself, pulling his thumb out and replacing it with a finger, drilling into him. Graves barely has any time to think before Grindelwald adds a second finger while he stretches his mouth around Percival’s cock once again. He scissors them inside, curling and brushing against Percival’s prostate teasingly.

Graves becomes more impatient, and needier. Desperate, even. He pulls Grindelwald by the hair again, earning a sharp jab to his prostate. He lets out a choked moan and the back of his head hits the wall hard. His inner muscles squeeze the dark wizard’s fingers and Grindelwald loses both his patience and his control, quickly pulling his fingers out and thrusting back into Graves with his cock. The stones behind Percival dig into his back, piercing into his skin and leaving scrapes and scratches but he couldn’t care less.

Grindelwald thrusts haphazardly, his eyes unable to leave the sight of Percival’s body swallowing his cock. Their bodies tangle and heat overpowers them, the layers of clothing only causing them to sweat more. He looks at Percival’s face. Graves has his mouth open and his eyes are half-closed, beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face. Grindelwald moans. He looks absolutely enticing. 

He grabs a hold of Percival’s leg to angle himself better, nails digging into Percival’s thighs as his pace grows stronger. Graves responds enthusiastically, whispering a string of curses as Grindelwald hits his prostate with each thrust. Percival desperately grabs at his own cock and jerks himself to match Grindelwald’s rhythm. He feels so full of Grindelwald’s cock and he knows he’s close. The dark wizard starts snapping his hips faster, stomach in knots.

Then they both come, hair damp with the sweat slicked across their foreheads, wrists red and bruised from the fight before.

Neither of them are happy about this, but they’re also not unhappy about it. Feelings of guilt and betrayal fill them, but they think that somehow, this is how it’s supposed to be. They can’t resist each other – both powerful men with such contending spirits. And they both think that maybe, just maybe, opposites do attract.

“This won’t be happening again,” Graves says, clearing his throat. He says this even though he knows full well that this will, in fact, happen again. Both men stand faced away from each other, buttoning their shirts and doing the clasps of their trousers. Graves redoes his tie and clips on his cufflinks.

“Needless to say, I am disappointed by your refusal to join me. But I do promise you, Mr. Graves, that the next time we see each other, I will not hesitate to kill you,” Grindelwald speaks confidently as he throws his overcoat on.

“And I you.”

Still facing away, the two men smile to themselves, both excited and eager for the next time they run into each other. And then they _disapparate._

—

The next morning, Graves takes a rare moment of freedom to read The New York Ghost in the lobby of the Woolsworth. The bustling sounds of house elves polishing wands and administrative workers squabbling over bureaucratic dealings comforts him. What happened last night still has him on a high. He sighs pleasantly, too deep into an article about the No-Maj prohibition of alcohol to see Tina headed his way.

“Good morning, Mr. Graves!”

Startled, Graves stares at her, wide-eyed. She stands there with her sister, Queenie. “Ah, hello Tina,” he nods at each of them. “Queenie.”

He rarely sees them outside of his office, but it’s rather refreshing. Putting the paper down on the bench, he crosses his legs and gives them his full attention.

“I was on my way to see – wait. Mr. Graves, were you injured on the job last night?” Tina inquires, intruding his personal space by tugging the neck of his shirt. She uncovers bruise marks that are red, purple and yellow, eerily similar to the shape of a large hand.

He quickly shrugs her off and then gets up, side stepping away while adjusting his shirt. “It’s nothing. I didn’t even notice until you pointed out,” he lies, mind flashing back to Grindelwald’s hands around his neck, their mouths latched on to each other’s, their bodies tied together – and then he stops. He’s forgotten about Queenie. His eyes lock on hers. She’s a Legilimens. 

Graves quickly racks his brain for an excuse to leave. “Picquery’s expecting me in her office. I’ll see you girls later.” He _disapparates._

“Well that was strange, wasn’t it?” Tina tilts her head in confusion.

Queenie doesn’t quite understand what she saw in the Director's head, but tries not to think anything of it. It could easily have been something from the past. Better not to get involved with something as private as those images and thoughts within his mind, she supposes. Instead, Queenie smiles at her sister and speaks reassuringly. “Oh, he’s probably just overworked. You know how Mr. Graves can get.” 

"I guess so," Tina shrugs, and both witches decide to leave it at that.


End file.
